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Everything about fifteen-year-old Cat's new town in rural Michigan is lonely and off-kilter, until she meets her neighbor, the manic, beautiful, pill-popping Marlena. Cat, inexperienced and desperate for connection, is quickly lured into Marlena's orbit by little more than an arched eyebrow and a shake of white-blonde hair. As the two girls turn the untamed landscape of their desolate small town into a kind of playground, Cat catalogues a litany of firsts - first drink, first cigarette, first kiss - while Marlena's habits harden and calcify. Within the year, Marlena is dead, drowned in six inches of icy water in the woods nearby. Now, decades later, when a ghost from that pivotal year surfaces unexpectedly, Cat must try to forgive herself and move on, even as the memory of Marlena keeps her tangled in the past. Alive with an urgent, unshakeable tenderness, Julie Buntin's Marlena is an unforgettable look at the people who shape us beyond reason and the ways it might be possible to pull oneself back from the brink.
Utgivelsesår 2017
Format Heftet
ISBN13 9781509844135
EAN 9781509844135
Språk Engelsk
Utgave 1
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Start en diskusjon om verket Se alle diskusjoner om verketAt fifteen, I believed that I would grow up to be the exception to every rule.
Privilege is something to be aware of, to fight to see beyond, but ultimateley to be grateful for. It's like a bulletproof vest; it makes you harder to kill.
I want to go home, but what I mean, what I'm grasping for, is not a place, it's a feeling. I want to go back. But back where?
When you grow up, who you were as a teenager either takes on a mythical importance or it's completely laughable.
Tell me what you can't forget, and I'll tell you who you are.
To the moment before I tasted alcohol, to virginity and not really knowing that things die, back to believing that something great is up ahead, back to before I made the choices that would hem me in to the life I live now.
At fifteen, the world ended over and over and over again. To be so young is a kind of self-violence. No foresight, an inflated sense of wisdom, and yet you're still responsible for your mistakes.
When you were an adult, all the promises of your life was foreclosed upon, every day just a series of compromises mitigated by little pleasures that distracted you from your former wildness, from your truth. Sylvia Plath, Marilyn Monroe, Edie Sedwick, Janis Joplin. They got to be beautiful forever.
I would have pitied any adult who told me that things would change. For you, I would have thought, but not for us.